mephistopheles
by marsiac
Summary: Violent tendencies have always lingered inside her head, there was no use in denying it. Her brothers knew it, her demon of a sister knew it and everyone who will spend more than five minutes talking to her will know it. But that was it. Only thoughts inside her head, inside of "the normal one". That changed after meeting Jim Moriarty. slowburn, TW: depression and suicide
1. sentiment

— i. sentiment.

* * *

Nausea lingered in his stomach like a lump of raw dough as his sweaty hands clasped onto the plastic armrests of his office chair. His gaze drifted out of the window, thoroughly inspecting the boisterous waves surrounding the lonely island.

He hated that place. On that day, he had even more reasons to hate being there.

And as the small clock on his desk displayed 11am, Mycroft arose from the chair that felt like a fakir's board full of rusty nails. With a straight posture, he towered over his workspace, tired eyes shutting out everything on that desk except for a pair of black leather gloves—it was foolish to go into battle without armor.

A battle against _the one that got away_.

Her eyes were deadly bullets, as blue as his own but adorned with creamy chocolate melting around her pupils. Cheekiness was sprinkled across her face in the form of mere freckles, freckles that were long gone the last time Mycroft saw her.

He had a few seconds to slip the gloves over his hands before Anthea appeared in front of the glass door. Slowly, the brunette opened it halfway and peaked her head through the gap she just created.

"The helicopter just landed. Your guest is ready now," she said, waiting for instructions.

Mycroft just nodded while Anthea's head turned to the hallway, the corners of her mouth quickly twitching upwards—a signal. A staccato beat of high heels vaguely echoed off of the dark stone floor, creeping nearer and nearer. _Five-inch heels_ , Mycroft deduced, waiting in anticipation.

The moment her figure appeared behind the glass facade, he gasped lightly, resulting in him holding his breath. She looked different, provokingly different. Dark earth had turned into honey, dripping down her slim shoulders in soft, thin curls. The lack of brown roots indicated that she only recently died her hair.

After she stepped into the office, Anthea closed the door and left again, leaving her boss alone with one of his worst nightmares.

"Hello," Mycroft said as confident as possible. He hesitated before reaching his hand out to her.

Starting at his wrist, her fingers gently glided over the dark leather. For a mere moment, she stopped at his fingertips, then finally returned his gesture and slowly shook his hand. "Are you cold?"

Mycroft clenched his jaw in tension, ignoring her question. Her round eyes glistened curiously as they scanned his face.

"Enlighten me, my dear," she smiled.

"Excuse me?"

"You're asking yourself why I dyed my hair. Tell me, why?"

For a moment, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to tell her. "You don't want to look like her—no, _us_."

"13.21 seconds. You used to be more impressive than that."

" _Kha_ —"

"I see that you are dumbfounded, let's continue this conversation another time. I'm here for this." She just couldn't let him say her name. Hearing him say it would tear her carefully crafted facade down and she would break into tears in mere seconds. Out of the pocket of her camel-colored pants, the woman grabbed her sleek phone and held it straight into his face.

 **Anonymous**

 **Help me.**

Mycroft looked rather confused as he looked at the message. "How do you know it was _her_?"

"Sherlock can't stand the sight of my face, he wouldn't ask me for help even if his life depended on it. And you would call," she figured, shifting her weight from one nude high heel to the other.

"She is locked in a high-security facility without any contact to society, why would you think she just texts you out of nowhere? It could have been _anyone._ "

Blankly she stared at him, trying to read his mind. "But I'm alone."

"The women in our family were always more sinister, I don't want to imagine what the two of you could do together," he quickly changed the subject.

"Then why do you let me talk to her?"

The gears in his head were turning rapidly. "Because not letting you would break you."

Her eyes were fixated on his. She was smaller than him but still, she slightly tilted her head down, and it made her look perilous. "Sentiment?"

"I haven't seen you for more than six years, a little sentiment won't damage our reputation."

"I'll take it back," she smiled. "You're still impressive, brother mine."

* * *

A/N

Quite short, but it works as a kind of prologue. I've reworked parts of the story quite a bit. The main plot will still revolve around Jim Moriarty, but the subplot stays hidden in the shadows for now. I want it to be a mystery that my beloved readers can solve along the way ;) I really wonder how quickly you will get it, or if anyone _ever_ gets it.

I really hope you'll still like the story, even after some changes!

And for new readers: This story will dive into the mind of Jim Moriarty and will try to explain why he killed himself on that fateful day with Sherlock Holmes. So be warned, depression and suicide will be a constant theme.


	2. trust

— ii. trust.

Khalista. A name as silly as the rest of them. Mycroft, Khalista, Sherlock… and Eurus.

Khalista always said that Eurus was never really there. Since the day Eurus was born, a year after her sister saw the light of day, she lived inside her own world with no emotional connection to her family whatsoever—that's why she was never really there.

And she didn't bother to rip her sister out of that state of isolation, no, her mind always twirled around something else, _someone else_.

As she walked down the halls in Sherrinford, the woman's heart was pounding recklessly. She didn't know if it was because of the reunion that would come or the reunion that already happened—maybe a mixture of both. Mycroft stayed in his office, nonchalantly avoiding any contact with Eurus. Luckily, she wasn't afraid of her. If she was, her big brother had to come with her to hold her hand, just like he did when they were younger.

Now he wore gloves so he wouldn't have to touch her.

At the end of the long hallway, three men armed with heavy machineguns guarded the elevator to Eurus' cell. Khalista knew the procedure, she had been here several times already. After being checked for any dangerous objects, she entered the dreadful elevator. That one specific elevator conditioned her into getting weak legs every time she entered one.

* * *

Eurus was already standing in the middle of her cell, anticipating what was to come. When the doors slid open, a small grin formed on her face and for the first time that day, Khalista was thinking about how this could have been a very bad idea.

"Blonde doesn't suit you," Eurus immediately snickered.

 _Definitely_ a bad idea.

For now, she didn't answer. Quickly Khalista searched for a camera and focused on it. A swift hand gesture suggested whoever was behind the screen to turn it off. But the red light kept blinking. She did the gesture again, this time more aggressively.

"Don't think I'll let you talk alone," it rang through the intercourse.

"Seems like big brother is watching." Eurus's head also turned to the camera.

"Oh come on… Just turn it off already!"

"Not in that tone!" Mycroft exclaimed in anger.

A slight quiver hushed over Khalista's dark red lips as she batted her lashes. "Please, Mycroft. Ten minutes are enough."

" _Do not_ disappoint me." The red light on all four cameras in the cell disappeared.

"After all those years, you still have him wrapped around your finger."

In the matter of a second, Khalista's lips curled into a devilish grin, her presence becoming somewhat more _dominant_. It seemed as if someone turned the lights off in her eyes. "Of course." Her voice was as hypnotic as always, magnetic even.

Eurus stepped closer to the glass, her face adorned with the same mischievous grin because, in some way, she felt special. Khalista would only take her mask off when she was alone with Eurus. Her pure blue eyes scanned her sister's face, mainly focusing on her hair. "Why are you trying to give him a bad conscience?"

Khalista didn't answer, instead, she also got closer to the glass.

"The wig. You wanted Mycroft to think that you didn't want to associate with our family anymore."

"Oh." She shrugged, eyes wandering aimlessly through the cell as if she was watching imaginary butterflies that floated in the air. "I like to make him feel things to remind him that he's not made of ice once in a while," Khalista explained.

"What about Sherlock?"

"I don't care about Sherlock."

"Of course you care about him."

"You know nothing about these things, how could you know? _Real_ trust, warmth… love."

"No, I don't," she declared confidently. "You could have been immaculate. But compassion makes you weak. It's sad, really."

"Believe me, I've tried to rip that useless heart of mine out several times already." The smile on her lips vanished, leaving her face as a blank canvas. " _But still I yearn_ ," she said, her voice breathy and melancholic.

"Does it hurt?"

"More than anything. But I'm afraid that is not our topic. What is the matter with Sherlock?"

"I just want to keep him busy, give him some mysteries to solve. I'm bored. He's bored, _you're_ bored."

"Disappointing,"Khalista said.

Eurus obviously tried to hide her bewilderment but the slight shudder of her right hand gave it away. To be fair, she already knew what she was referring to. Khalista wasn't gifted in the same way her brothers were, her deductions were different. She could pick apart the human mind like Mycroft picked apart the government, or Sherlock his crime scenes, so it was obvious that she knew something wasn't quite right. She could identify lies at an instant, even though she wasn't quite certain when it came to Eurus—she was just too skilled in hiding the _full_ truth. "Not _only_ mysteries, but he'll live."

Khalista sighed, shuffling her feet a little. "What do I do then?"

"I can't leave this place yet if I want to make this work so I'm going to get someone to play along with us. He will set everything up, the only thing that _you_ need to focus on is that Sherlock stays alive. The man I've chosen seems to be reliable, but it's just in case he gets carried away."

"The role of an angel doesn't really suit me, does it?"

"No it doesn't, that's why you're not going to be an angel in this game. You just do what you usually do—control from the inside. Maybe some manipulation, hypnosis even."

 _Hypnosis_. Internally, Khalista laughed at that statement. Surely, she was a therapist that focused on hypnotherapy, but that didn't mean that she could make people bark like dogs or forget their names with a pendulum and the flick of her wrist. "You know, that only works on willing minds after several sessions of preparation and trust."

"Then _make_ them willing."

"It is easier said than done, my dear. Anyways, how will you get in touch with that man?"

"I get to talk to him as a Christmas present. Only five minutes though."

"Well, I figure that is enough for you to manipulate that poor thing", Khalista said before her grin reappeared on her face. Slowly, she got so close to the glass that her forehead almost touched it.

" _You can trust in me_."

"Good. Now shoo, our brother is probably ready to tear his already thinning hair out. The pawn will get in touch with you soon."

Eurus' word choice amused her quite a bit and if she was completely honest, Khalista loved talking to her. It was mostly because of her—unfortunate—interest in broken minds. "Goodbye then," she said, a tiny bit of grief lingering in her voice in the form of a merely noticeable voice break.

It was awful to step into the elevator and go down but it was even worse to get into the elevator and leave. She hurried back into Mycroft's office, trying to adjust her mentality back again.

* * *

Mycroft's usual poker face turned into a worried frown as she entered the room again. "What does she want?"

"I think I can start writing my testament." Khalista just watched as his expression worsened. "I'm joking. Everything is fine, it was just the usual, insults and mockery," she lied nonchalantly.

Mycroft let out a sharp breath before laying his hands over his face. "Do not joke about that…"

"Would it matter? You don't even look at me properly. Maybe you would if you had to identify my body."

With a slight self-defensive smile, he knitted his brows in confusion. "What kind of statement is that sup—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Khalista grabbed the front of her wig and pulled it over her head. After also removing the nude wig cap, luscious black waves fell over her shoulders. They were a little messy and scrunched up due to the cap, so she slowly ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Since there was no reaction from him, she just threw the blonde wig onto his desk. "Nothing to say?"

"You're an insufferable witch, I hope you know that," he spat after realizing why she had done it.

Khalista just smiled lightly while stepping closer to the desk. Slowly, she sat down on the edge, slightly shifted across from Mycroft. He rolled the office chair back so that her legs had enough space and didn't have to lay against his own ones.

"I missed this," she whispered.

"What about _this_ is worth missing?"

"You."

"Oh, stop it! I think we have already used up every available drop of sentiment."

"You're starting to sound like Sherlock. _How scary_."

"I'm sorry, my beloved sister," he smiled rather provocatively. "Please excuse this misbehavior of mine."

Gradually, she leaned closer to him. "You shall be forgiven," Khalista whispered into his ear before gently kissing his cheek.

"There is something on your mind, isn't it? You wouldn't be mocking around like this if there wasn't."

"…Yes. I thought the end would cease the fire but… It's still there."

Luckily, Mycroft knew her well enough to encrypt her shrouded metaphors—she always had a thing for being dramatic but, admittedly, they all had.

"Leaving isn't really the end and you knew that from the beginning."

"I had no other choice. I couldn't control myself, leaving was for the better, for all of us."

"It wasn't the best for you, I'm afraid. To be completely honest, it wasn't for me either. Not being able to help tore me apart."

"Everything is okay now. These terrible thoughts still linger inside my head, but at least I can keep my hands to myself."

"Thinking about it is tolerable just as long as you don't act on it."

"Do not worry, Mycroft. _You can trust in me_."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I'm sorry it took so long! The holidays were unexpectedly stressful. Also, I changed the cover back to the one I had on the first draft of the story, maybe one day I'll make a good one.**


	3. excitement

— iii. excitement.

Instead of a gleaming Christmas tree, brown cardboard boxes were stacked in the center of the living room. There was just no time for Christmas decorations. After all, Khalista had to move into the soon-to-be cozy house in Northaw. It would have been a lot more convenient to move directly to London, but she would rather drive half an hour than to live inside a busy city full of irritating people.

Finding the house was mere luck. It was furnished to an extent, its old owners left everything that wasn't a necessity, like dusty side boards and old bookshelves filled with—to some people—useless literature.

The first thing that she did was getting a proper kitchen and dining table. Both were merged with the living room, open concepts were on the rise again. She didn't really care about the concept, more about seeing her glorious kitchen more often. Cooking was always the best part about her day and on Christmas Eve, Khalista was in paradise. Her cooking was comparable to magic, the only problem was that she was, unfortunately, only cooking for one person. Her feasts could have been even better on a big dining table.

The next thing was music. Having her grand piano and cello shipped from her previous residence in Austria to her current lot cost her a fortune, but it was worth it. To her, every room was empty without a piano in it. Admittedly, she didn't play a lot anymore, but that is why she invested in a good sound system. She couldn't fill the house with music by herself every day, so she had to find a different solution: modern technology. It sure didn't have the same _charm_ though _._

With precision comparable to a surgeon, Khalista placed several rosemary twigs, a mix of nuts and small potatoes around the fresh deer's back before placing the baking tray into the oven. Tchaikovsky's _'None But the Lonely Heart'_ hauntingly echoed through the living room—she felt as if the music was mocking her. Maybe she should have accepted Mycroft's offer and celebrated Christmas with him. Now she was brooding alone, as always. But being alone didn't stop her from dressing up nicely.

Just as she finished putting away the many spices and herbs into one of the dark wood cupboards, the ringing of her doorbell disrupted the tragic melodies. A small smile crept onto her face, expecting her brother. Khalista turned to the door and opened it quickly, only to realize that it wasn't Mycroft.

She was looking into the abyss. The man in front of her smiled devilishly as he tried to step through the door, but Khalista abruptly closed it again. Something seemed to block the doorframe and as she looked down, she saw what was causing the door not to close—a black patent-leather shoe.

While clenching her jaw, she opened it again. The man slithered through the smallest gap to finally enter the house.

"Have you looked at the calendar by any chance?" Khalista asked calmly. She knew who he had to be.

His eyes appeared to be black in the dim light of her living room as he curiously scanned every inch of his surroundings. "Certainly, but your sister said you would be free tonight."

"What else did she say?"

"That you are my Christmas present and that I should start by unwrapping you." His wicked smile broadened as his eyes focused on her.

Khalista stepped closer to him, evidently gazing over his whole body. "I doubt she said that."

"Yeah okay, the unwrapping part was a little exaggerated," he chuckled. "I am James Moriarty, but please, call me Jim."

Slowly, the dark-haired woman started to circle around him like a preying panther. She got dangerously close, even for Jim's taste. "Exquisitely tailored," she whispered to herself as she analyzed every single seam that adorned his anthracite suit. Her warm breath that brushed against his neck sent shivers down his spine as she continued to finish her round, yet, he stayed as still as a marble statuette.

After she stood in front of him again, they locked eyes. Khalista raised her chin to assert as much dominance as possible. Thanks to her high heels, she was just a tad bit taller than him.

"And what is _your_ name?"

"You don't know?"

"She didn't tell me. Actually, it seemed like she was avoiding to say it."

Khalista sneered amusedly. _Typical_ , she thought. "My name is…" She leaned in closer as Jim slowly closed his eyes. " _Kha_ —" It was only one syllable, but she elongated it to its maximum. "— _lista._ "

The echo of her hypnotic voice lingered in his ear for a little longer before he opened his eyes again, nodding blissfully. Nonchalantly, Jim distanced himself again, roaming through her living room. It seemed like he was especially interested in the cardboard boxes.

He inspected them thoroughly, then turned to the big cupboards made out of sturdy dark wood. His finger slid along the dusty panels before opening each empty compartment.

Khalista just watched his every move. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything, really."

"Anything?"

"None of these boxes have been opened, except for one. There has to be _something_ here…"

"Aspiring to be a detective like my little brother, yes?"

"Oh please, I'm better," he snarked before pulling a black box out of the last compartment. Carefully, he placed it on the dining table and curiously looked at her. "This is definitely valuable to you, don't you want to stop me from looking inside?"

"I don't mind, go ahead."

Jim opened the lid and peeked inside. His lacking smile indicated that he was expecting something else. Warily, he picked up the stack of photos and went through each and every one of them. He couldn't help but wonder why she had a box filled with photos of only herself. They were rather old, seemingly from her youth. It had to be important to her, after all, it was the only thing that she tucked away, leaving every other thing untouched. As he had come to the last few photos, a triumphant smile finally adorned his face. "Steamy," he sneered as he inspected the photographs that depicted her only wearing underwear while playfully handling a Union Jack flag.

"You see, that's why you aren't better than him. Sherlock would know why I keep these." She could see how his jaw tightened in anger at her comparison.

"Give me a hint."

"It's not about who is in front of the camera."

"Then it's more boring than I thought."

"Sorry," she said, putting the lid on the box again. "Would you mind if I made up for this disappointment with a drink?"

"No, not at all."

With a smile, she went behind her kitchen counter and got two whiskey glasses out of the cupboard. "Maybe we can stop playing then and start talking about why Eurus brought us together."

"She didn't tell me much, the only thing she said is that you would do anything for me if I just asked nice enough and that I shouldn't sleep on this opportunity. She thinks very highly of your abilities."

"Well, except for the last part, _that_ definitely sounds like her."

" _So_ ," he sang, stepping closer to the counter. " _Would_ you do anything for me?" His voice got a little higher than usual.

After pouring the amber liquid into the two glasses, Khalista looked up again to analyze his face. It was nearly quivering with excitement. "Not _anything_ , but most things, yes. That only applies to activities that involve the game with my brother, of course."

"Why would you be against him? Didn't he let you play with his toys?" His mischievous sneer conveyed a sexual innuendo that left Khalista sick to her stomach.

"I just like to watch him solve crimes. It makes me proud."

"You do know that I am going to _destroy_ him?"

For a moment, she left the glasses on the counter and stepped closer to him. "No. That's why I am here. I'll be honest with you, Mr. Moriarty. I am not on your side. If his life is in danger at one point in this game, I will make sure that nothing ever happens to him."

"I'm afraid you won't." His hand wandered towards the inside of his jacket, slowly pulling out a silver 9mm Beretta. Gracefully, he aimed it at her head.

* * *

 **Because you had to wait so long for the last one I'm publishing this early, hope you enjoy!**


	4. delight

**A/N**

 **I'm so sorry it took so long! I helped one of my best friends with her own Sherlock fanfiction, I hope you can forgive me for letting you wait that long. Thanks a lot for the comments, follow and favorites, I really appreciate it!**

 **If you're interested in Erin's story, she recently posted it here and the story is called "The Lost Vault". I helped her develop some plot point and oh boy let me tell you... Those plot twists are phenomenal. So yeah, I would be very thankful if you checked out her work :)**

* * *

— iv. delight.

Soft beams of light were reflected on the silver gun as Jim Moriarty held it up high with a perfect posture—he looked more than elegant. Slowly, Jim licked his lips. "Don't disappoint me now."

"What do you want me to do, disarm you?" Khalista's gaze didn't leave his expression to read him as best as possible.

"That would be a start."

She sighed, trying not to lose her temper. He was already irritating her greatly because he thought Christmas would be a good time to discuss criminal activities and now he didn't stop playing around. "What if—just in theory—I couldn't?" In reality, Khalista could disarm someone within mere seconds. She might have been away for six years, but those years definitely weren't wasted. If Mycroft knew what exactly she was doing, he would have personally carried her back to England if he had to.

Jim tilted his head to the side, patiently waiting for something to happen. "Let's find out." He placed himself in front of her, the gun now only a few inches away from her forehead.

For just a little bit longer, Khalista thought about her next move. She could either show him her full potential and maybe gain some respect or she could have made him underestimate her by failing his request—he wouldn't shoot her either way, that would be stupid.

Khalista took a deep breath while gently combing the hair out of her face and behind her ear before rapidly grabbing his wrist. In a swift motion, she first pulled on his arm before twisting it and turning it on his back in merely a second. There was no resistance whatsoever. Jim huffed in pain as she mercilessly git hold of his arm before the corners of his mouth excitedly twitched up and down.

He didn't even notice when she ran her hand along his waistband, so it took him by surprise when she pulled out another gun. Khalista's eyes narrowed after aiming it at him.

In theory, it was a good plan to assert dominance, but since Khalista would do just the same dirty trick, it was easy for her to detect it—she already saw that he was hiding a second gun near his tailbone when he came in. If she took the unloaded gun that Jim was holding, he would have taken the second gun and still had her under control, even if she disarmed him.

"Didn't work out as planned, huh?"

"I couldn't possibly imagine the first thing you would do is check out my behind," he sneered. "The gun was covered by my jacket, you shouldn't be able to see it without looking at my butt extensively."

The dark-haired woman couldn't help but smile as she lowered the gun again. "In my defense, I looked at every inch of your body extensively."

"Not every inch." His tongue slowly went over his lips as he slightly shook his head. "There are a few important ones missing."

"I hope you are talking about a third gun or else I'm going to throw you out immediately."

"That would be a shame, I wouldn't want to miss dinner. It smells delicious already."

She wheezed in amusement. "What makes you think that I want to have you for dinner?"

"Who wouldn't want me for dinner? Actually, people usually want me for dessert…"

Khalista slightly rolled her eyes before handing the gun back to him. "If you really want to stay you should leave that in your pocket and those undiscovered inches in your pants."

"Great, now get the drinks!"

"I'm serious."

He puckered his lips while thinking. "Okay, I'll behave."

Jim enjoyed his whiskey on her dark gray sofa while Khalista checked on the meat in the oven. He moved his wrist in circles, letting the ice cubes clink against the glass. The whole house was silent except for the fireplace in front of the sofa, which bothered him immensely. He just needed constant stimulation. His eyes absentmindedly gazed into the burning embers.

"I had more fun with the gun out," he whined, getting no response from her.

Slowly he turned on the couch so he could see what she was doing since it faced the other way. Khalista was drinking her own glass while leaning against the counter, but it seemed as if she was daydreaming, her face adorned with a glum frown.

He wanted to get her attention by saying her name, but just as he wanted to speak his mouth gave in. Something inside of him didn't dare to say it—and maybe Eurus didn't dare as well. Quickly he tried to come up with a silly nickname.

"Hey Missy, how are you?"

"Oh, terrible," she mumbled into the glass.

"At least you look good."

Her eyes shifted from gazing into the nothingness of her kitchen to him while a rather small grin formed on her lips. "That makes two of us, then."

"Smooth," he sang as he watched her drink the last drop of her whiskey. "How about you come and sit down with me?"

"I have to watch the meat. It's deer, so it has to be perfect."

"I'm sure it will be perfect nonetheless," he said while gesturing her to come over.

Khalista thought about it for a moment, then nodded lightly. Before going over to the sofa, she set the kitchen timer and took the whiskey decanter with her. She took off her pointy black high heels and sat down next to him in a relaxed sitting kneel. Her left arm was propped up on the sofa's backrest as she turned to him. "So... what is on your mind?"

"Nothing much... I'm just bored." His dark eyes sent shivers down her spine. He just looked so damn sinister.

"Then let me ask you something. Don't you have someone to celebrate Christmas with?"

Jim just shrugged his shoulders. "No one who could be worth it."

"Not even family or friends?"

"I don't have friends, only business partners," he stated perplex. His tone didn't sound sad at all, it seemed like he was happy about it.

To her, he was so much like Sherlock.

"Okay maybe I have one friend, but he's also my partner," Jim said while thinking about Sebastian Moran.

"Why do you think that he is your friend?"

"We often do things together that aren't related to business. Mostly drinking though..." He scrunched his forehead in confusion after realizing what she was doing. "... Are you psychoanalyzing me?"

She just chuckled before trying to stop herself by biting her lower lip. "I'm a therapist, so it's in my nature. Also..." Khalista laid her head onto the hand that was on the backrest while staring at him. "You seem to be very interesting, at least for someone like me."

Jim's black eyes lit up. "Interesting?"

"Yes."

"So you're curious what I'm gonna do with your brother then?"

Her smile disappeared, turning into a disappointed frown. "No. I'm curious what is in there," Khalista said, her index finger lightly tapping on his forehead.

"Come here, I'll tell you," he grinned, gesturing her to lean in closer. Carefully she lifted her head up again and moved closer to him, still leaving enough distance between them. Jim closed that distance to reach her left ear.

"A brain," he whispered amused.

Immediately, Khalista grabbed one of the small pillows behind her and tossed it into his face. "Idiot muppet!" she exclaimed before letting herself fall into the sofa again.

"Did you just call me an idiot muppet?" Jim laughed broadly, lifting his hands up to be prepared for another hit.

Khalista crossed her arms and turned her head away from him so that he couldn't see how she was fighting with herself not to laugh. "Stupid jokes... And I thought you were a criminal mastermind."

"I _am_ a criminal mastermind. But you said you were terrible, I was just trying to cheer you up."

"Wow," she taunted, "You're really good at it."

"Cheering people up?"

"Manipulating."

His face turned into a blank canvas in the matter of a second as his laugh disappeared. "You're spoiling my fun again. It's the third time already this evening," he mumbled.

"I just want to make sure you know that I'm not just... Someone. I can see right through you."

"I knew that the moment I..." Just as he wanted to finish his sentence, the awful beeping of the kitchen timer echoed through the room. "Doesn't matter," he said.

Khalista quickly jumped up from the sofa, hurrying to the oven. Since she was only wearing black nylon tights instead of shoes, she nearly slipped on the dark laminate.

* * *

After taking everything out of the oven, she went and set the table for one more person. She didn't really care that he was eating with her, in the end, she loved cooking for people. She coated the pieces of venison in a layer of chopped hazelnuts before laying them aside. Khalista took the potatoes and started to puree them, along with that she served dates carefully wrapped in pancetta and walnut crumbles. After arranging everything on two plates, it looked like a piece of art.

Jim was already waiting patiently at the ornately decorated table. "Deer in a roasted hazelnut crust, potato puree, pancetta-wrapped dates with walnuts and a blackberry sauce," she explained as she put the plates down. With a smile, she poured some wine from a swan decanter. "I hope you like Pinot Noir, it goes best with the dish."

"Oh, no doubt. I'm sure it will be good."

"Well then, enjoy your meal." With that, she sat down across from him and watched closely as he started to eat.

He chewed the meat with a slight smile, savoring every bit. "It's really good," Jim said before taking another bite.

Khalista was so mesmerized by him that she forgot to eat. While dining, he tried to have constant eye-contact, which didn't make it any better. It was almost as if his eyes were a lightbulb and Khalista a helpless moth. She wasn't in control—and she hated not being in control. This time, however, while watching him doing something as mundane as eating, she didn't care that he was above her.

And his self-assured smile proved that he knew he was in control.

"What are you going to do to him? Will you kill him?" she suddenly said. Her tone was calm.

"I told you I'll destroy him, but I won't kill him."

She finally took a bite herself after pinning one of the dates on her fork. "There is nothing much to destroy, really. He's heartless."

"Makes me assume that he wasn't so nice to you."

"He didn't treat me any differently than our parents or our brother, to be fair. But I did some... questionable things when we were younger that made him despise me. I don't blame him."

Jim wiped up the rest of the blueberry sauce with the last piece of meat, smiling curiously. "Now I'm interested."

"It's nothing to be discussed while having dinner. It is rather disgusting actually..."

"Now I'm _really_ interested."

She shook her head, uncomfortably looking down her plate. "I'll tell you once I fully trust you."

"But I'm curious now. Do I have to get my baby out again?" he grinned, his hand already reaching into his jacket.

"And that's exactly the reason I don't trust you."

"I guess I'll have to accept that. I learned more than once that it's never good to piss off my partners."

She raised one of her sharp eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll tell you about it when I trust you," Jim sneered.

Khalista couldn't help but laugh. _Smarty_ , she thought to herself while shaking her head slightly.

Jim drank the rest of his wine in small sips as he watched her finish the meal. "See, I did cheer you up. You can't even stop smiling."

"Because you're an idiot. It's rather amusing, actually."

"Well, that's better than an idiot muppet. Give me a few more hours and I might be just Jim."

After finishing his sentence, his throat tightened. At first, he didn't question it, but when his eyes suddenly started to see double, he scrunched his forehead in discomfort. The room started to spin and his limbs went heavy.

"Is everything okay?" Khalista grinned devilishly.

His sight might have been compromised, but he saw the mischievous look on her face. "What did you do?" The man tried to stand up, but his legs just didn't want to hold the weight of his torso.

"I told you, you're an idiot. But to be fair... The psychedelics I like to use are quite tasteless, especially in alcohol."

He concentrated and took the gun out of his Jacket, his hands shaking immensely. With all the strength he had left, Jim aimed the gun at her, but he just couldn't pull the trigger.

"I don't think so," she whispered before effortlessly taking the fun out of his hand. "Be nice and say thank you, yes? I let you enjoy dinner first, after all."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that I'll see you in the next one :)**

 **Comments are always appreciated!**


	5. sympathy

— v. sympathy

His whole body was as heavy as lead when he opened his eyes again. He must have been knocked out because he just couldn't remember how he got off the dining table and on the sofa. Those black eyes might have been open, but they didn't really _see_ —or at least he couldn't put what he saw into context, even if it only was the boring fireplace.

"You were out for about two minutes, you do have a strong mind." A warm breath lingered on his left ear, her voice going through every inch of his body.

This time, it definitely was _every inch._

"Makes me think that I shouldn't up the dose that much," Khalista whispered, her voice quivering in anticipation. "Hey…" She was standing behind the backrest, her head peeking over Jim's shoulder. "Is your mind ready for input or do you need another minute?"

He tried his best to get control over his jaw again. "… _What_?" he babbled.

"Okay, tell me when you're fully awake again, would you?

Khalista smiled gently as she walked around the sofa and sat down across from him on the long, dark brown coffee table. The fire was definitely too close, as she felt her back tingling in heat.

"I can't really move, but I can think… _I think_."

She got up quicker than she wanted to, but the heat was just too much. "Sounds good enough to me." Breathing out heavily, she sat down next to him and grabbed a small vial, latex gloves and a syringe from the table. After unwrapping the syringe, she sucked up some of the brown liquid from the vial.

Jim concentrated on his arms, trying to take the syringe away from her, but the only thing he managed to do was to wobble his hands around before one of them uncontrollably fell into her lap, being as limb as before.

" _That_ is _very_ thin ice."

"Lend a hand?" he giggled. Why was he giggling? He obviously lost control over his body, but it seemed like his mind was infected as well.

His giggling was forcefully stopped when she injected the syringe into his neck. She did it gently, her eyes, however, revealed that she most definitely wanted to ram it right through.

"Tell me, what is your name?" She didn't have much time to ask her questions, so she quickly forgot about the hand. Thiopental was a powerful drug to dull a brain, making it nearly impossible to do any cognitive tasks thoroughly—such as lying—in just mere seconds. The only problem was that it sent its users to sleep after about 10 minutes.

"James Moriarty, but please call me Jim," he mumbled with confusion on his face.

"Good. And do you know where you are? City-wise?"

"Somewhere out of London… The name of the town doesn't really matter to me."

Khalista's eyes didn't shift one bit, they were constantly analyzing every muscle in his face. "I heard you were in South Africa this morning…"

Oh, he was _definitely high_. "I wish! I think it was Sherrinford… Some kind of insane asylum. It had its charm though."

"Really? Who did you meet?"

" _Mycroft Holmes_ ," he mockingly roared in awe, "He's so stuck up, I think you'd like him. The two of you would make a great pair—no, wait. He's your brother, isn't he? That _would_ be awkward… But not a problem." Jim just couldn't stop talking. He suddenly had the urge to talk and talk and talk and talk. He probably couldn't even breathe as fast as he was talking.

Her red lips turned into a gentle, wholesome smile. "You know I _did_ want to marry him when I was younger. Usually, little girls want to marry their father, but big brother was more interesting." She wanted to linger in memories for a moment but soon realized that she was drifting off—almost as if she accidentally pricked herself with the Thiopental. "Anyways, I assume you also met my sister."

Jim just nodded, instantly regretting that choice of movement as it felt like his brain was banging against his skull. She could read it in his pain-distorted face.

"She probably said the usual things. _Kill my sister_ … Et cetera."

"That doesn't sound right. I think she didn't mention you at all. She only told me to contact you so we could help each other."

That couldn't possibly be true. Khalista was sure that Eurus wanted to kill her. There was no other explanation to why she contacted her in the first place. Sherlock and Khalista were twins after all and it would make no sense to leave one of them alive, especially because they never had a good relationship. If Eurus wanted to really hurt her, she would have to kill Mycroft and not Sherlock. _It just made no sense_.

"What _exactly_ did she say? I know it's hard to remember right now."

Jim felt like he drank a bottle of whiskey on his own—really good, but awful at the same time. " _I have a sister, she is—"_ before he could finish the sentence, a yawn interrupted his speech. _"She is skilled in the right fields. I'm certain you can help each other. She will do anything if you ask nice enough."_

Khalista was shaking her head in disbelief. _Help each other?_ It was obvious what help she provided, but how could Jim possibly help _her_? She lowered her head, her long, dark brown hair falling into her lap just to slightly tickle the palm of his hand.

"You know I'm getting really tired, could we play some upbeat music? Maybe even some Bonnie Tyler, I don't care."

" _Please_ do not speak right now, I am trying to think," she whined through gritted teeth.

"There is no need for thinking, you help me to play with poor Sherlock and that's it. Isn't it obvious?"

Slowly, she lifted her head again. "No, it's not. It _has_ to be something else." She studied his face again, trying to solve the puzzle. Instead, she noticed how pale he was and her heart almost skipped a beat. There was a very thin line between an effective and a lethal dose when it came to Thiopental. She might have overdosed Jim in her eagerness to outsmart Eurus, to outsmart him.

"Just breathe for a moment, okay?" she worryingly demanded. Khalista leaned in closer, placing her right ear near his nose. The fireplace's crackling was louder than his breathing, so she checked his pulse instead. She grabbed the hand that was already laying on her lap and put a little bit of pressure on his wrist.

When she first came closer, Jim thought that she was expecting him to kiss her—he was glad that she didn't. After her thumb pressed down onto his wrist, he realized that she was taking his pulse, not trying to hold hands.

Khalista sighed. "I think it's barely okay. Let's get you into bed, yes?"

"But we aren't done talking about Sherlock yet."

"Sherlock is not important now," she smiled. No, it was more important not to let him die. "Come on, sleepyhead. I'll help you walk."

She lifted him off of the sofa by his armpits before letting him use her as a crutch. He was grinning all the time, but now that grin disappeared, leaving only a dreadful gaze. "If you call me that one more time I'm going to hurt you _really_ bad tomorrow… Well, more than I'd planned to at least. I hope you realize that you're going to pay for this."

"That's why I love Thiopental so much. In just a few hours, you will remember nothing. You're going to have a massive hangover though. As if you just drank a little too much…" Khalista explained, trying to repress her smile. In the end, her plan to uncover Eurus' intentions didn't really work, but at least she had _some_ fun.

"I get why you think your sister wants to kill you."

* * *

 **I know it's a little shorter again, but I hope you don't mind. Thiopental is basically a "truth serum". It's an anesthetic and patients become _really_ chatty before falling asleep. I didn't want to give out too much information about it, just enough to wonder :) **


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